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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27198539">Silence and The Sun</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrasBen/pseuds/TrasBen'>TrasBen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Skeleton Shipping [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Undertale (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Cross | Xtale Sans (Undertale), Does not follow original Dreamtale, Dreamtale Dream (Undertale), Failed Relationships, I should be nicer to him one of these days ;-;, M/M, Misunderstandings, Poor Dream, Shattered!Cream (Undertale), Shattered!Dream (Undertale), Underswap Sans (Undertale)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:15:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,105</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27198539</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrasBen/pseuds/TrasBen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Every morning, Dream tries to be himself again.</p><p>Results vary.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sans &amp; Sans (Undertale), Sans/Sans (Undertale)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Skeleton Shipping [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1403878</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>133</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Silence and The Sun</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneiriX/gifts">OneiriX</a>.</li>


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27195745">Broken Butterflies</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneiriX/pseuds/OneiriX">OneiriX</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>im really bad at hibernating. last fic this year, i swear!</p><p>but i read Tychii's 'Broken Butterflies' earlier and brain goes brrrrr haha</p><p>thanks for breaking my heart, let me return the favor :")</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>The world is quiet.</p><p> </p><p>At one time, it had agonized Dream to hear nothing, not even the wind rustling through trees and grass. To know only the dreary creaking of the old wooden beams of his house. Now, it feels normal. Almost secure in a way.</p><p> </p><p>Every morning, Dream wakes, greeted by silence and the sun. He rises from the stiff bed he sleeps in, which is musty from age and creaks almost more than the stairs, and he undresses and uses the basin of cold water in the corner to scrub every inch of his bones with a worn rag. </p><p> </p><p>And for a moment, he feels like himself.</p><p> </p><p>With bones glistening in the morning sun, faint scars shadowing the surface, Dream breathes for the first time in what feels like eons.</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>By the time Dream redressed, the oil is back. It’s shiny and slippery and honey colored, but most importantly, it coats every inch of Dream’s figure. It’s not itchy or obstructive. It doesn’t leak. But it suffocates him all the same.</p><p> </p><p>Most mornings, Dream will leave the house he’s claimed in order to root around the abandoned village in search of books or blankets, or sometimes delicately painted glassware. There’s not a lot to do in an abandoned universe, but he makes due.</p><p> </p><p>He must, because the lock ensures that he stays in this quiet prison. Dream couldn’t leave if he wanted to. <strike>He does</strike>. Not if he screamed himself ragged in this silent world, begging for someone, anyone to hear him and set him free. <strike>He has</strike>.</p><p> </p><p>This morning is not most mornings.</p><p> </p><p>Every once in a while, a full cycle of the moon by Dream’s measurements, he gets a visitor. More often than not, it’s Blue. Sometimes Cross visits, and on one disastrous morning, Nightmare had stepped into Dream’s house.</p><p> </p><p>Ink never visits, and Blue fidgets when Dream asks after him.</p><p> </p><p>All of Dream’s visitors are polite. They speak shortly and not unkindly, but there’s still a coldness about them. Dream wishes he knew what to do to warm the space between him and others again, but since his corruption…</p><p> </p><p>It doesn’t come as easily as it used to, warmth. There’s fragments inside of Dream’s soul warring with each other, fighting and clawing for attention and recognition.</p><p> </p><p>Buried under the oil, the tar, that cover’s Dream’s bones and his mind, his positive core longs for connection. It wishes to hold Cross’ hand again and to make Blue laugh and to greet his brother with a smile. It longs to smile and see others smile and give them the comfort he once did.</p><p> </p><p>But the fragments… they fight, still. Spending Dream’s capacity for thoughts until all that’s left is an aching numbness. His motivation is gone, drained away with his positive aura. </p><p> </p><p>The sudden absence of presence unnerves the others, Dream knows. Neither Blue or Cross ever stay for long, and they don’t look Dream in the eye sockets. They just grimace and ask pointless questions, too quickly for Dream to comprehend; everything in this world is at half time speed, the others move so fast. It overwhelms Dream, and he feels guilty relief when they’re gone, only to be struck with aching loneliness the next morning.</p><p> </p><p>After the loneliness comes feverish rage, anger that scares Dream. The tentacles at his back flail wildly and it’s all he can do not to tear the <em> empty, silent </em> village around him to ruins. To wish revenge and ill will onto the few of his <em> friends </em> who still deign to visit him. He imagines spitting in Blue’s face and slapping Cross’ reserved and pitious expression.</p><p> </p><p>He thinks about what it would be like to kill his brother, which frightens him back into his hollow state. Albeit a little more jittery than before.</p><p> </p><p>Every month, Dream cycles though these states, these fragments of emotions.</p><p> </p><p>But today is the day that he will have a visitor, so Dream tidies his house and dons his cape and straightens the crown on his head and makes his way to the edge of the village, where an old gnarled tree stands alone in a field.</p><p> </p><p>His own footsteps echo loudly in the empty streets, like a ticking clock that counts down to his inevitable doom. Dream pays it no mind.</p><p> </p><p>At the base of the tree, atop vivid green grass, is a picnic blanket Dream had left months ago, to save himself the trouble of dragging it out each month. The world is dead, in a stasis, so Dream doesn’t worry about things like rain or overgrowth.</p><p> </p><p>Dream sits and waits. He plays with the grass by the blanket, picking at it and twirling it and patting it down. He wishes there were wind he could feel or the sound of birds, but there are no animals in this world anymore.</p><p> </p><p>Slowly, softly, there’s a ripple in the fabric of this universe, and Dream glances up to see a small seam being cut into the reality before him, from which Blue steps. Dream’s shoulders relax.</p><p> </p><p>“Good morning.” He greets pleasantly.</p><p> </p><p>Blue shuffles, looking just above Dream’s head where he sits and almost manages to convince Dream he’s truely smiling. “Good morning!”</p><p> </p><p>“What have you got?” Dream questions, nodding to the wicker basket Blue is holding at his side.</p><p> </p><p>The small skeleton blinks down at the basket like he'd forgotten that he brought it. Then, Blue sits suddenly, right across from Dream, and places it between them. A barrier.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, well!” He starts nervously, “you’ve been here for quite a while, and I realized that you probably haven’t had a whole lot to eat! So… I brought some things for us. For you.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream watches as Blue procures a thermos and some cups from the basket, followed by a tupperware container. The fragments inside him stir happily, anxiously, cynically all at once. Dream settles for curiosity.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s very kind of you, but I don’t require physical sustenance.” He reminds Blue.</p><p> </p><p>Blue only hums and opens the container, which is filled with cookies. The happy fragment flutters, it’s been so long. He takes a cookie despite his own words, and Blue manages a halfway sincere chuckle.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought you would enjoy it. You always did have a sweet tooth, D - “ Blue stops suddenly and becomes quiet. “Well, you always enjoyed sweets.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you.” Dream tells him sincerely. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s no trouble, I…” Blue uncaps the thermos, and pours something for Dream. “I brought some golden flower tea, as well.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream takes in these offerings, these gifts, and feels that happiness flutter again, stronger. He smiles and looks at Blue fully, catching his brief attention. Again, Dream is going to thank Blue, but the other freezes.</p><p> </p><p>The anxious fragment takes control, fear sweeping over Dream’s body.</p><p> </p><p>“Y...Your eye lights…” Blue stutters, “I never noticed… how small they’ve become.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream can’t help the way his hands come up to rest on his cheeks, heavy embarrassment making him want to hide. “And?” He grits out.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing!” Blue attempts to placate, “It just looks like you’ve seen a ghost or something, Mweh Heh!”</p><p> </p><p>Dream doesn’t relax, and neither does Blue.</p><p> </p><p>It’s a heavy few minutes of silence that follows. Dream hates this silence more than the usual one. </p><p> </p><p>“I… sorry, D - .” Another full stop before a blue continues, “Sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>Blues reluctance to say Dream’s name a second time does not escape him. That familiar rage builds up inside him, but Dream pushes it down down <em> down. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Don’t call me Dream if it troubles you.” Dream rasps unsteadily, “It’s worse when you try despite your discomfort.” </p><p> </p><p>It really is. Dream can feel how uncomfortable Blue is at the moment. It oozes off of him, and Dream’s magic is quick to snatch it up. Two meals in one, how lovely. How sickening.</p><p> </p><p>“But that’s… you…” The blue toned skeleton flounders.</p><p> </p><p>Dream cuts him off by raising a hand. “It’s fine. You can think of something else to call me while you become more comfortable with my current… form.”</p><p> </p><p>Even if hearing one of his previous closest friends refer to him by an alternate name twists Dream up inside. He takes a sip of the tea, which is rapidly cooling in the stale air. It will only be temporary, though. Just until Blue is more comfortable with him as he is now.</p><p> </p><p>“.... What should I call you, then?” And doesn’t Blue just sound so lost, then.</p><p> </p><p>The fragments inside of Dream are fighting again. To leave, to stay, to reassure, to scorn.</p><p> </p><p>“Why not Shattered?” And as he puts it out into the universe, Dream can’t help but feel that it sounds unbelievably <em> wrong. </em></p><p> </p><p>“... Shattered…” Blue tests the name, and Dream ignores the urge to flinch. “Alright, Shattered! Well, it really is time for me to go - “</p><p> </p><p>Panic claws into Dream’s mind, “What?” He blurts, “But you haven’t even eaten, or - “</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, well…” Blue looks away guiltily. “This was more for you, and I have some responsibilities to attend to…”</p><p> </p><p>Without so much as a goodbye, the seam to the universe opens and engulfs Blue whole and Dream’s world is silent again.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Dream leaves the food on the blanket and walks home with slow, even, measured steps. It feels more like a march than a walk, but he carries on.</p><p> </p><p>In the comfort of his own borrowed home, Dream sits on his borrowed bed and reads his pilfered books and tries tries <em>tries</em> to swallow the mounting grief that threatens to swallow him first.</p><p> </p><p>He falls asleep in his sorry state, not even changing his clothes or removing his crown. In the morning, when he is greeted with silence and the sun, he rises, strips his clothes, removes his crown, and scrubs at his bones until they are clean.</p><p> </p><p>But it doesn't last. It never does.</p><p> </p><p>Dream redresses and feels dirty as he watches the oil seep slowly back over his bones.</p><p> </p><p>He stands there for a good while, clenching his fists and resisting the searing rage that simmers in his bones. It feels like he might really <em>shatter</em>.</p><p> </p><p>... But the silence is broken by the sound of bone against wood. Dream startles and looks towards the entrance of his room. Except, that's not where the sound had come from. He flexes his magic and located a presence right outside his borrowed house. It's Cross.</p><p> </p><p>In his disbelief, Dream stumbles out of his room, down his creaking stairs, and to the entrance of the house. He swings the door open to face his former guard and lover.</p><p> </p><p>Cross looks good, just like he had when he last visited three months ago. But there's a certain set to his jaw, a tenseness to his shoulders that Dream has gotten used to seeing by now.</p><p> </p><p>"Cross - "</p><p> </p><p>"You should have this." Cross thrusts something small and metallic into Dream's hands. Dream looks down to see the soul shaped locket on a chain Cross had gotten for him ages ago. Hope soars through Dream.</p><p> </p><p>He looks up at Cross, beseeching an explanation. Does this mean what he thinks it does? Does - Does Cross want him back?</p><p> </p><p>"I had been saving it for, for Dream." Cross' voice breaks, and something inside Dream wilts, understanding sweeping over it first, before his mind. "But I see that -"</p><p> </p><p>Cross curses and looks away, silent and pensive. Dream holds up the chain with a tiny, tiny smile. "Will you put it on me?"</p><p> </p><p>Cross flinches. Dream's distress grows.</p><p> </p><p>"No," he finally tells Dream, "I'm sorry, I have to... I have to go."</p><p> </p><p>Cross backs up and Dream catches his sleeve, expression pleading, "Will you be back?" He asks, ashamed of how weak and desparate he sounds.</p><p> </p><p>The taller monster looks Dream in the eye lights, and he is suddenly self conscious of what Blue had told him only yesterday.</p><p> </p><p>"Goodbye, Shattered." Cross says softly. He tugs away from Dream and moves to leave. Dream flounders, only able to wonder where Cross had heard that name.</p><p> </p><p>Cross is already halfway down the street when Dream is finally to call after him, "Wait! Where did you hear that?"</p><p> </p><p>Dream's once-lover turns for only a moment, with a piercing gaze to say: "Blue told me. That's who you are now, right?"</p><p> </p><p>The guardian can only open and shut his mouth while Cross leaves, unable to even chase after him.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was just supposed to help Blue be more comfortable.</p><p> </p><p>Not even the fragments know what to feel when Cross is gone, so Dream sinks to the ground on his knees and holds himself. He stares into space and tries to cry, but nothing comes.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>for shattered dream, i get inspiration from the european renaissance humanism.</p><p>"melancholy", or the paralyzing uncertainty in the future, especially about what happens after death. a small tango with nihilism and intense introspection, especially over emotions and motive.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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